


you're a bad yokai

by MourningDew



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Angst, Yokai AU, kaito is a yokai, these fandoms are gonna get me killed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:54:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22075051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MourningDew/pseuds/MourningDew
Summary: Conan looks death in the eye for the nth time and for once he doesn't see a way to save himself. In a last ditch effort, he calls out to the world of spirits for help.AKA Shinichi accidentally adopts a REALLY annoying yokai
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

Among certain groups of people who, today, are rotting in jail, there are some misconceptions about Kudou Shinichi. The most common is that he gained the favor of a god of wisdom; similarly, there’s another that states he  _ is  _ a god of wisdom. Others think him a sadistic prick through and through, some going as far to curse his name every time they go to sleep on their cheap bunks. Deep, deep down, all these people can’t help but wonder: who could ever  _ hope _ to challenge a man like that?

Probably the one with his hands currently wrapped around Conan’s throat, though he would never know just who exactly he was strangling. 

The sole reason Conan had not forseen this  _ incredible  _ disaster lay in the fact that he vastly underestimated his opponents; the murderers seemed downright stupid on the surface, leaving tracks and fumbling getaways. He never would’ve  _ dreamed  _ that these people actually belonged to the black organization. Now Ran, Kogoro, and the priests were hostages, the black organization got away with their stolen goods, and Conan would be choked to death in front of his family. 

He fumbled to reach the knob on his shoe, but he was being pressed into the floor; there was no  _ way _ he was to overpower this bastard, made of muscle and killing intent as he was. 

“I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you,” the man chanted.

Conan would’ve laughed if he could breathe.  _ You’re already doing that, idiot. _ His struggling weakened as he was overcome with the brief hysteria over that flippancy of that thought.

“ _ Conan!” _

The boy in question flinched at the sound of Ran’s voice and strained to get a glimpse of her. She was tied fast and brutally, ropes digging painfully into her skin (she had tried to fight back; the men in black weren’t so kind after that). 

Then the deep rooted sixth sense Conan repeatedly found himself staking his life on drew his gaze to the space right beside Ran and he finally found the last piece of the puzzle.

A young man with a kitsune mask sat hunched, watching the scene unfold with a startling detachment. 

Conan had  _ absolutely  _ no confirmation for the split second, half-thought idea that jumped into his blood deprived brain, but everybody was shouting- Ran louder than anybody- guns were waving, and everything was devolving into chaos. 

“H-...  _ help,”  _ he croaked, the last thing he saw being the man rising to his feet, five silky fox tails unfurling behind him.

\---

When Conan comes to, the first thing he feels is Ran’s hand on his forehead; the first thing he sees is the terrible gashes on her wrists. The latter makes him snap awake and causes such a sudden churn in his stomach that it has him wincing, which Ran, ever observant, is quick to notice.

“Oh, Conan, are you okay? Where does it hurt?”

“I’m fine… sorry for worrying you,” he looked passed her a moment, catching a glimpse outside the ambulance and a bit of the crime scene. He took a breath to ask what happened, but Ran beat him to the punch (she always has). 

“Don’t you dare act tough. Are you  _ sure  _ you’re okay? You were so… so  _ pale. _ And your neck…” Her gaze lowered, searching the bruising that has probably bloomed there. 

_ It’s impossible to actually crush someone’s windpipe-  _ Conan thought,  _ only to restrict blood from the brain. Someone with a damaged windpipe could still breathe even through a microscopic hole.  _ Instead of voicing that aloud, however, he shrugged and mumbled, “I’m still alive and you’re still alive, so it’s all okay.” Ran looked about to argue, so he hurried on, “what happened after I passed out?”

“Oh, well…” she rubbed at the folds in her skirt, but stopped when she noticed flecks of blood on it, “everyone’s still trying to figure out what happened, but after you passed out, all those bad men suddenly just collapsed. It was really creepy…”

“Collapsed how? Can you be more detailed?”  
“I’m not sure what else to say… one minute they were pointing guns and yelling and the next they just hit the floor, one after another. We’re still waiting for them to wake up, I think. I’ve been here with you the whole time.” She smiled a little, which Conan ended up mirroring. 

“That’s weird.”

“Yeah, it definitely is.”

Conan moved to hop off the ambulance, “I’m gonna go look around” on the tip of his tongue, but Ran already had him by the collar. “Don’t even think it, Conan. Why don’t you take a  _ break _ for once? We can play later. You need to focus on healing.” 

He crossed his arms.  _ Healing is an automatic body function- it takes literally no attention to happen. _ But then he took another look at her wrists and decided maybe just this once it wouldn’t hurt to let the mystery slide him by…

\---

He was going to lose his mind if he didn’t figure out what happened. No matter what other ideas he tried to come up with, it just didn’t fit. Conan was a firm believer in what science could prove; he scoffed daily at the fairy tales his teachers read and firmly rolled his eyes at any and all ghost superstitions. 

Nothing frustrated Conan more than a mystery he couldn’t solve- but then again, nothing excited him more, either. He would pick endlessly at this question, just like all the others, and he  _ would _ find the secret. That’s what it was to be Kudou Shinichi. 

“Conan! Bed time!” 

_ And this is what it is to be Conan Edogawa,  _ he thought bitterly, obediently changing into his pajamas. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure if i'll continue this


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> conan goes to investigate, because as we all know, shinichi is addicted to mysteries and they will ruin his life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’ll be honest i didn’t watch that much of detective conan oops

It was no secret that Ran adored Conan. Sure, he could be bratty, confusing, annoying, loud, rude, and  _ many other things… _ but he was just a kid and even then, there was an entirely different side of him that came out at the strangest times. The middle of a murder case, for example.

Conan would get this  _ gleam  _ in his eye, immediately shutting out all other thoughts as he would begin to search the room, almost like he was a real detective. Sometimes she was convinced he was sherlock reincarnated; other times, he seemed a lot more like another certain detective she’d known. Neither of which could be true, because neither of those people would ever bawl their eyes out in a show of bratty wrath over going to the restroom even if the world was ending.

The worst thing about Conan, though, was definitely the murders. It was like bad luck followed him around wherever he went- the worst kind of luck possible. It hung over him like an angry storm, striking anyone that came anywhere close. Murder case after murder case, each one more greusome than the last. It was terribly stressful, but it was doable. Ran only wished that Conan didn’t need to see all those mutilated bodies (though strangely enough, he still managed to laugh and smile like it was nothing). 

Maybe it made Ran a bad person, but she drew the line at  _ Conan _ getting hurt, even when all those other lives were ripped away. 

Watching strangers die was distant to her- it was always a part of her life at this point; her father had always been solving cases, then she met Shinichi and he solved even  _ more  _ cases (always the morbid ones, it seemed), and after awhile the horror of it all just seemed to fade away (she spent a lot of time wondering what the  _ hell  _ was wrong with her). Blood flooded the floor and she went to investigate. Corpses turned up and she calmly called the police. It just didn’t phase her like it used to.

But when  _ Conan  _ got hurt? Ran felt  _ directly  _ responsible. She had been the one to invite him into their home, to take care of him, and ever since then, she’d tried to take proper care of him in place of his real parents. Of course she was just a teenager, but she was trying her best and… of course she got  _ terribly  _ attached to him.

So when he was pinned to the floor, muscled, wrathful hands wrapped around his throat, Ran saw red.

She thrashed against her restraints, tried to claw her way out tooth and nail, but nothing worked; all she could do was wail as she watched the light fade from the little boy’s eyes- the precious light she’d taken it upon herself to protect.

Before she could dislocate a joint in her panic, something in Conan’s eyes suddenly seemed to clear, and his gaze sharpened. His voice sounded more like a wheeze than anything, but she still caught that single word;  _ help. _

Then his body went limp and, almost as if Conan was the one thing holding reality intact, the room seemed to distort. Not in any way that she could see, but there was such a sudden and urgent sense of  _ wrongness _ that there was no way she couldn’t miss it.

Then, one by one, all the bad men cried out and collapsed, like karma finally decided to kick it up a notch.

Ran was shaking hard, but in the end, she decided to be thankful.

But she would never forget how Conan called to her for help, with such raw desperation.

\---

Conan had managed to gather minimal information from Kogorou and Ran, seeing as the former was a dumbass and the latter was overprotective, but the facts boiled down to this: the murderers that mysteriously fainted have signs of choking, though they’re unsure by what. The bruises are far too big to be invisible string, and did far too much damage for it to be much of anything else. No one was drugged, no one was killed, and the cameras caught nothing they didn’t already know.

Between him and professor Agasa, though, he suspected the black organization of having  _ some  _ hand in this.

He didn’t have to sniff out the mystery; it was shoved in his face and reeked of paranormal conspiracies (which was pretty nasty stuff).

At this point, Conan decided the best way to prove what happened would be to return to the scene of the crime. The only problem was convincing Kogorou and Ran to let him go… or he could just have Kogorou call him in sick.

\---

After wandering around for awhile and talking to the old priests, Conan learned that this temple was dedicated to the god of riches. Apparently the legend was that if you threw enough of your money away here, it would come back to you tenfold, setting you up for life (he had to laugh at that- honestly, how stupid could someone be?).

Conan eventually found himself standing before a tall, polished shrine of a young man with his head bowed forward, long strands of hair spilling over his shoulders and weaving across the ground around him. His eyes were closed, a small smile gracing his lips; the tips of his praying hands were pointed toward himself, a position that would be uncomfortable for any human. He spent a moment considering the symbolism of it, but he wasn’t coming up with anything concrete.

“Admiring the architecture?” 

Conan whipped around so fast he almost lost his glasses and found himself face to face with the same young man from the incident. “ _ You-” _

“Your neck is looking great,” he spoke, head tilted nonchalantly.

Conan knew for a fact that it was still an ugly purple. Now that he wasn’t looking while deprived of oxygen, he could make out much more detail of the strange man. His hair was a bird’s nest of silky looking locks, definitely short; it didn’t go passed his neck. He wore a flowy, expensive looking, white kimono with a red sash expertly tied around him. Most striking was the kitsune mask over his face, blue streaks lining the cheeks with the right eye emboldened with black.

The air behind the man seemed to shift, and Conan caught his second glimpse of five, swirling tails.

“...You’re not the god of riches, are you,” Conan asked after a moment, even though he knew he was right.

“Of course not,” came the nonchalant reply. The man’s tails swished hypnotically as he spoke, “who would ever want to spend their whole life tripping over that much hair?”

Conan blinked and ultimately decided to ignore that last remark, “who are you, then?”

“Call me Kaito Kid.”

_...That sounds like some sort of weird stage name. _ “Okay… what are you?”

“A yokai.”

“Prove it.”

Kid huffed a sudden laugh, tails flaring behind him, “you sure are a slave driver, little detective. First you ask me to save your life, and now you want me to prove my existence. How is that fair?”

Conan stuffed his hands in his pockets, a little uncomfortable at how even supernatural beings could see him for what he was. “Thank you, by the way. ...I probably wouldn’t have gotten out of that on my own,” he admitted reluctantly, “but what did you even do to them?”

“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeves. It helps to have big sleeves,” Kid seemed to smirk, even with the mask in the way.

Conan, on the other hand, frowned in irritation, “you’re pretty flippant for someone who almost committed murder.”

“Murder on your behalf,” he corrected.

“That’s- ugh,” Conan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed before fixing the yokai with a look, “can you just tell me what’s going on? Why are you here, what are yokai, and… and how did you do that?”

Kid shifted his weight and seemed to deflate, “In order: boring question, it varies, and don’t you ever watch tv? Have you heard of magic?”

“What do you mean it  _ varies?” _

“Ugh. Some yokai come into this world born of like… energies or some such, while others are the souls of dead people.” Before Conan could ask the inevitable question, Kid answered it for him, “I died, which, you’re kind of insensitive, huh? Now are you done with the pop quiz or can we get a move on?”

“Just one last question,” Conan insisted, “why did you save me?”

Kid was silent for a beat too long, “duh, because you  _ asked. _ And besides, what was I gonna do when those ruffians got blood all over my clean floor?” His mood suddenly seemed to shift all at once to something more serious, “by the way, that girl that was with you… the one tied up and screaming bloody murder.”

“Yeah, what about her,” Conan asked, suddenly feeling defensive.

“Is she alright?”

There was a quiet moment where the whole room seemed to hold its’ breath before Conan nodded, “she’s hurt, but she’s fine.”

“That’s good.” Another beat of silence passed, “I suppose with that, I’ll take my leave. ...Thank you for visiting, little detective.” 

Conan faltered at the sudden goodbye, Kid already turning to leave with a swish of his entire goddamn poofy outfit.

For some reason, the thought of leaving this interaction at that filled his gut with dread. As someone who looked death in the eye and laughed on the daily, he’d learned again and again to trust his gut. He didn’t exactly trust this man, hell, he was  _ dead, _ who  _ knew  _ how unpredictable that could make him, but… he  _ did  _ take down an entire room of potential black organization members with apparently zero effort.

Suddenly, the ideal scenario hit him like a brick.

“Why don’t you accompany me?”

“Excuse me,” Kid said incredulously, half turning to face him, “but the hell do you mean?”

“Well it seems to me that you don’t really have much to do around here,” it was obvious really, how bored Kid was, “and that kind of thing- all the chaos and violence- it actually happens a  _ lot. _ So what if you accompanied me? And acted as my protector.”

“...Your protector,” Kid parroted skeptically. 

Conan nodded, beginning to count off on his fingers, “you would get out of this place and see more of the world, you would have something to do, and you seem to have  _ some  _ sense of justice… you would be dealing with some really bad people.”

“Oh, joy. My specialty.” 

“...Please,” Conan lowered his voice, slowly realizing just  _ how close  _ of a call it had been, “you don’t have to be nice. You just have to protect me and my family for awhile.”

Kid stiffened and lowered his head enough that Conan managed to catch a glimpse of an indigo glimmer in the mask’s eyes. “...You know what? Why the hell not.” 

“So it’s a deal?” Conan asked, taking his hands out of his pockets to extend one to the yokai.

“Deal,” Kid agreed as he crossed the room and took the offered handshake.

Conan was overcome for a moment with just how  _ cold  _ Kid’s hand was, not in the way that bit his skin, but it still chilled him down to his bones in a way no winter’s breeze ever could.

Kid chuckled without humor and released him, leaving Conan to assume that he knew perfectly well just how cold he was. “Pleasure doing business. Just one question.”  
“What?”

“How are you planning on having me protect you?”

Conan sighed and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, “that’s where the problems come up. Until I come up with something better, you should probably just stand by until there’s a case… that’s always when trouble crops up. I could let you know through-”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Kid cut him off, sounding amused, “two of them, actually.”

Conan smiled sweetly over the bit of irritation, “go ahead, then.”

“First of all, most people can’t see me in this form.”  
“Wait, what-”

“Second of all-” Kid trailed off, the inflection in his voice promising something big.

All it took was a blink until the yokai was  _ gone,  _ replaced with a totally black dog, its back almost reached his elbows.

Actually, now that he looked closer, it looked more like a fox. The longer he stared, the more the fox seemed to come into focus, like messing with a camera. Finally his eyes were drawn to those same blue streaks as on the kistune mask, now ripping through the fox’s fur with a playful shimmer.

“Wait- wait-  _ Kid!?” _ Apparently this was his proof that he was talking to a yokai…

Kid laughed, but instead it echoed strangely in his head, almost like his own thoughts, but entirely foreign. Disoriented and confused, Conan immediately decided he didn’t like the idea of telepathy very much.  _ “This is my other form. Everyone can see this, minus the blue, but it would be easier to stay with you this way.”  _

Conan shook his head, feeling somewhat violated, “but  _ no one could see you before.  _ How is this better?”

_ “This form is more physical. With the other one, sometimes I could be caught behind spiritual barriers and the such. It gets complicated.”  _

“...This is already complicated,” Conan mumbled slowly. “Can you read my thoughts,” he asked suddenly.

Kid seemed to laugh, even in this strange form,  _ “no, lucky for you. I bet you’ve got a weird head.” _

_ Speak for yourself… _

\---

“Conan, where have you  _ been!?  _ It’s  _ late!” _

Ran had been waiting for him, of course. School got out awhile ago, but he’d been in the middle of dealing with the yokai… currently padding along a few steps behind him.

The moment Ran noticed the fox was obvious, as she gasped and immediately grabbed Conan and hauled him into her arms with absolutely no warning; he flailed for a moment, struggling for purchase. “What-”

“Be careful, Conan! It’s-...”

“...What, it’s what?”

She didn’t answer, so Conan strained to see her face. Any and all traces of fear were gone _. _ The alarm in her voice earlier had been the sort of tone she’d use for an emergency, but now she seemed more confused than anything.

“Sorry, I just… I thought it looked hostile for a second,” she lowered him to the ground, still watching Kid (which gave him plenty of time to scrutinize the mutt himself- he wasn’t gonna  _ try  _ anything,  _ was he?) _ , “where did you find it?”

“He, uh, followed me home,” Conan decided, Kid stepping forward to stand next to him.

_ “As if,”  _ Kid’s voice rang in his head.

“Do you think we could keep him,” Conan asked, hoping she hadn’t seen him flinch.

Ran sucked in a breath through her teeth, “ _ uhhhh…” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kogorou scowled at the dog, sitting innocently on the floor. "I already took in THAT mutt," he gestured disapprovingly at Conan, "and now you want me to take in a LITERAL mutt!? No way!"  
> Until just now, Ran had seemed pretty set on no dogs.


End file.
